The Demon Seed
by Starr Dust
Summary: A late night stroll has strange results for Ichabod. slash mpreg Complete
1. Chapter 1: The Illness

Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow. The film Sleepy Hollow was made by Tim Burton who adapted it from Washington Irving's short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

**Warning:** Slash, Mpreg

**Author's Note:** I wrote this story in response to a challenge on _The Mpreg Archive_,in which the story must contain either Ichabod/Brom or Ichabod/The Horseman and must have the element of mpreg. I chose Ichabod/Horseman. It's clear to see that there is mpreg in this story so if you want to, turn back now.

Chapter 1: The Illness

Constable Ichabod Crane couldn't remember the last time he had felt this miserable. His head was pounding, the room seemed to be spinning, and he simply couldn't keep anything down, which was the reason for his current position; kneeling on his hands and knees on the floor, bent over the chamber pot in the corner of his guest room at the Van Tassel household and heaving the contents of his stomach into said pot. His stomach began to ache with the force of his vomiting. He felt as if he were going to spill out his intestines. He gasped and panted as his vomiting finally ceased.

Slumping over to rest his back on the far wall, Ichabod tried to gather his thoughts. He had been like this for weeks now and he just couldn't understand what was wrong with him. He felt tears of frustration welling up in his eyes.

_Wonderful,_ he thought bitterly as he whipped fiercely at the tears in his eyes._ Now I'm crying like some _child! _What on Earth is wrong with me?_

If he remembered correctly, this all started not long after that unusually warm summer night.

_

* * *

_

_Ichabod sighed as he walked further and further down the beaten path around Sleepy Hollow. It was late, well passed midnight. The moon was out and shinning with enough intensity that it could rival the sun itself. The stars specked the night sky like grains of dust on a piece of black velvet cloth. Yet despite the late hour it was still incredibly hot. It came to the point that Ichabod found himself unable to sleep. He had opened the window of his guest room, hoping for even the slightest of breezes to come and cool him, but there was none. He recalled one of the locals talking about a near by lake, and in his tired, desperate state, he decided to go for a late night swim. Unfortunately, he was too tired to remember where it was or if he was even going the right way._

_He frowned as he realized that he had wandered away from the path and into the woods. He began to wonder why he had even agreed to accompany Katrina to this miserable town for the summer. He'd rather be back in New York, among the paved roads and tall buildings. He had better things to do, work to catch up on, cases to solve! And yet he was here, and in his heart he knew why: Katrina._

_He'd always believed in logic and reason, and yet he had walked blindly into this relationship without giving it so much as a second thought. Everything had been so spontaneous and happened too fast for the constable. Before he knew it, the sparks that had once been flying about like wild where all but gone, and the two had begun to drift apart. He knew that if he didn't accompany her here, he would run the risk of losing her._

_Then again, that may not be too bad a thing. After all, if he was already losing interest in Katrina, then maybe this relationship simply wasn't meant to last._

_His thoughts were interrupted when he realized that he had reached his destination. He was so incredibly grateful to see the clear blue water sparkling in the moonlight, that he all but forgot about his troubles with Katrina. Kneeling down in front of the lake he reached in to take a sip. He gasped in surprise as he felt the cold water on his skin. Cupping his hands, he took a few healthy gulps of the refreshing water. It took all the self-control he had to keep from sticking his head in the water and draining the lake._

_He unbuttoned his vest and laid it neatly on the ground beside him. Ichabod was about to remove his shirt when he suddenly felt as if a pair of eyes were watching him intently. He shuddered as he heard the sound of hoof beats in the distance. Ichabod spun around quickly, his eye darting around the dark forest. His already white skin paled even further (if it were even possible) and his whole body began to tremble in fear._

_There in front of him stood the frightening figure of the Headless Horseman, or rather, _once_ Headless. Despite the return of his skull to his body, the Hessian didn't seem to lose any of his fearsome demeanor. He sat perched on top of his equally frightening stead, Daredevil. His bulky frame was clad in his usual black armor. His dark hair was tousled about wildly on top of his had and his pale white skin was glowing in the moonlight. His sharpened teeth were bared in a slight smile and his eyes were dark with what appeared to be something akin to lust._

Oh God! _Ichabod thought frantically. _Please, _please_ let me be wrong about that!

_His mind in a panic, Ichabod clutched his open shirt closely to his pale, white chest like a distressed maiden protecting her modesty. He tried desperately to work his mouth and think of something to say, but he regretfully came up empty handed._

_The Hessian dismounted from his fierce some ride with a thud and Ichabod found himself instantly scrambling backwards in fear. His hand slipped and fell into the cold lake water. He felt the cold water engulf his forearm and gasped as it splashed on his shirt, causing the fabric of his shirt to cling to his chest. The Hessian let out a deep, rich chuckle as he took a few steps closer to the frightened mortal._

_"Now see here," Ichabod managed to say at last. He tried his hardest to steady his voice, but it still came out frantic and small. "If... if you recall, I did _help you _not too long ago! Y-you _owe _me a debt of gratitude, if nothing else…"_

_He squirmed in fear as his words seemed to have no effect at all on the dead man before him._

_The Hessian reached a gloved hand down and grabbed the inspector by the wrist, pulling him to his feet and out of the cold water._

_"No!" Ichabod gasped. He felt himself break into a cold sweat as he got a clear image of what it was the Horseman was planning to do with him. "Please don't!"_

_He shuddered in fright as the ghost pressed him closer to his strong, broad chest. His knees buckled and his body felt like a limp piece of string. A gloved hand wrapped around his waist as the other cupped his chin. Before he knew it, his lips were being crushed in a fierce kiss. His head swam as the world around him faded into black._

* * *

Ichabod had no memory of the rest of that night. When he had awoken the next morning, he was back in his own bed. He had tried desperately to convince himself that it was nothing more then a dream, but the pain in his rear and a few kiss marks across his body were clear indications that it was all very real. 

Ichabod took a few shaky breaths, trying his best to calm himself. Squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could, he tried to will his head to stop pounding and the room to stop spinning.

A light knock on the door pulled him back to the present and told him that he was late for breakfast.

"Master Crane, sir?" came the muffled voice of one of the servant girls of the Van Tassel home from the other side of the door. "Miss Katrina would like to know if you will be joining her for breakfast."

"Yes, I'll be down in a moment," he said. Ichabod didn't feel very hungry. In fact the very idea of food at the moment was making him ill, but he knew he had to eat something. He had been vomiting all morning and his stomach was completely empty. Further more, he didn't want to worry Katrina.

Ichabod quickly dressed himself and hurried down stairs to meet with Katrina. When he arrived in the dinning room he was greeted by the worried stares of Katrina Van Tassel and young Masbath. He knew he didn't feel well, but he didn't think his appearance was that awful.

His hair was more hap hazardous then usual, and his constant bouts of illness had helped him to shed a few unnecessary pounds. He had been getting extremely tired during the day as well. He seemed to have no energy at all and had large bags under his eyes because of his tired mind set. Ichabod wondered if it was possible to be pale and flushed at the same time, because that was how he felt. On second thought, perhaps he did look that awful.

"Sir," Masbath started to say, but seemed to be at a loss for words. However, the look on his face spoke volumes.

"Ichabod," Katrina said, her voice dripping with concern, "you look awful."

Ichabod smiled wearily as he sat down across from her. "I must admit, I don't feel quite like myself."

"Perhaps you should go see a doctor, sir," Masbath offered, unable to take his eyes off the older man's diminishing figure.

"He's right Ichabod," Katrina said as the servants placed the bowls of oatmeal down in front of them. "You're not helping anyone, especially yourself, by doing nothing."

Ichabod frowned down at the steamy contents of the bowl in front of him. Usually, he'd be more then happy to eat oatmeal, it being one of his favorite foods to eat in the morning, but this morning his stomach wasn't feeling up to eating anything at all. Dipping his spoon in the bowl, he scooped up some and held it to his lips. His stomach lurched and a wave of nausea over took him. He instantly dropped the spoon and hurried out of the dinning hall before he could continue to make a fool of himself.

Yes, a doctor's visit would be very appropriate.


	2. Chapter 2: Check Up

Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow. The film Sleepy Hollow was made by Tim Burton who adapted it from Washington Irving's short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Chapter 2: Check Up

Ichabod was nervous, to say the least. He knew it was silly to be afraid of something as simple as a doctor's visit, but he couldn't help but feel this way. He'd been ill for almost three weeks now and he wasn't showing any signs of getting better. If anything, he seemed to be getting _worse!_ He didn't need a doctor to tell him that that was not good. However, he would need a doctor to tell him _why _he felt this way, and that was what truly worried him; the answer to his question.

These symptoms were completely foreign to him and he was afraid that they could have been brought about by some incurable illness that would lead to his death. Ichabod didn't want to die. There were times that he felt very lonely, as if he were simply all alone in this world and had no one to turn to. Even the beautiful Katrina Van Tassel didn't completely understand him, despite the fact that she loved him (or at least claimed to). Yet in his heart, Ichabod knew that he had no wish to die just yet. Death would come to him eventually, that was an undeniable truth, but he wished to linger in this would for just a bit longer.

He looked nervously at the doctor's door and felt himself tremble slightly. He suddenly felt very cold, despite the warm temperature and the sun's hot rays.

_I could just leave,_ he thought suddenly._ I could simply go back and tell Katrina that it was merely a cold. No one would ever need to know._

Unconsciously, he felt himself take a step backward and just as suddenly he felt Katrina's words from that morning ghosting back into his mind.

_"You're not helping anyone, especially yourself, by doing nothing."_

He bit down on his lower lip and began to chew on it nervously. She was right. He wouldn't get better if he just turned away and ran back home. What's more, if he did go back and Katrina found out that he lied to her, their already straining relationship would be over. He couldn't let that happen. Squaring his shoulders, he marched over to the doctor's door and knocked confidently.

He waited patiently at the front door. His eyes traveled over to the sign next to the door frame. It read _"Doctor William Jacob Brown."_ He sighed before knocking a second time.

The door opened to reveal the kingly old doctor. He was a few inches shorter then Ichabod, and was bent over ever so slightly. The hair that remained on top of his balding head was powder white and a pair of wire thing glasses balanced on the tip of his nose. The old man smiled up at the constable. "Constable Crane," Dr. Brown said cheerfully. He stepped aside in order to allow Ichabod in. "I was expecting you."

Ichabod quirked an eyebrow at his words. "Expecting me?" he repeated in surprise. "How? I didn't even know I'd be coming until this morning, and I don't recall anyone being sent to inform you of my arrival."

"Yes, yes," the doctor said, chuckling good naturedly. "What I meant was: I was expecting you sooner or later," he explained. "Word around town is that you haven't been feeling well and quite frankly, you don't look quite well." Dr. Brown looked him up and down, a concerned frown creasing his already wrinkled brow.

Ichabod groaned inwardly. Not only were the towns people talking about him, but now the doctor wasn't being reassuring. Now he was truly worried!

"Lucky you came by when you did," Brown continued, interrupting Ichabod's train of thought. "I don't really have anyone else to see anytime soon, so I can take care of you right away." Patting the examination table, he motioned for Ichabod to sit down. The young man nervously did so. "Take off your clothes and lay down."

Ichabod felt a blush form on his pale cheeks as he nervously pealed off his layers of clothes.

_Stop that!_ he scolded himself._ Your acting like a child again. He's a doctor. You've nothing to be embarrassed about._ Still, he couldn't help feel nervous. It was like there were a group of butterflies going wild in his stomach. He wondered faintly if he was going to throw up.

Dr. Brown patted his shoulder in a reassuring manner and Ichabod flinched in both surprise and shock at how cold the old man's hands were. "Don't worry," he said, trying his best to comfort the nervous young man. It was normal for patients to be squeamish, most people didn't believe in doctors and felt they did more harm then good, causing sickness as apposed to curing it, and when they did come by for a visit he was all too often greeted in this same manner. "Tell me about your symptoms, Inspector," he said as he began to examine the young constable's body.

Ichabod licked his lips nervously, taking a shaky breath. "Well," he began, trying his best to tell his body to stop trembling, "I've been... feeling tired lately. I'm finding it quit difficult to stay awake at times."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, actually. Quit a few things really." He paused to think for a moment, trying to decide what to tell the doctor as well as recall all of his symptoms. There were so many and yet they seemed so unimportant. Still, they were all causing him quit a bit of trouble. "I've also been having trouble keeping food down. I've lost my appetite and because of it, lost quit a bit of weight."

"Yes I can see that," he observed, feeling the pale young man's ribs threw his skin. "You also seem to be sweating quite a bit."

"That would be from the vomiting," he explained. Ichabod shivered and gasped as the man's hands grasped his lower region. How was it possible for this man's hands to be so cold?

"Is that all?"

"No, there's more," he said. He had to think for a moment to remember the other problems he was having. "I've also been a bit moody as well. I've been having trouble controlling my temper as well as having constant headaches and a strange pain in my... my chest."

"That's odd."

Ichabod jerked his head over and stared at the doctor. "That's odd" was _not_ something you wanted to hear from a doctor. "What?" he asked, no longer bothering to hide the panic that was clear in his voice. "What's wrong?"

"The symptoms you described..." his voice trailed off as he grasped at the inspector's stomach, his eyes staring at the flat, pale surface with a mixture of shock and disbelief. "Impossible," he mumbled and Ichabod felt his heart skip a beat.

"Doctor," he said, trying to pull the old man back to reality.

He blinked and looked at him as if he'd been startled out of a dream. Dr. Brown tried to put on a reassuring smile, but it came out nervous and bewildered. "You... you can go ahead and put your clothes back on Constable. I'll be back in a moment." With that, he turned and hurried into the backroom, leaving Ichabod alone with his fears.

Pulling on his clothes, the young constable felt as if he were on the brink of tears. He was dying, he knew it. Any moment now, Dr. Brown would come back threw that door with a sympathetic look on his face and inform him that he only had a short time left. At that moment, Ichabod felt that he had lead a completely wasted life. Wifeless, childless, and nearly friendless. He had spent a good portion of his youth focused on logic and reason, but what good are logic and reason if they could not weep for you, couldn't comfort you in your final moments. He suddenly had a vivid picture in his mind of himself on his death bed, alone and forgotten.

Hot tears began to well up in his eyes and he reluctantly let them run down his cheeks. What good was it to hold in his feelings, to restrain himself when he was so close to the end?

His head jerked up as he heard Brown re-enter the room. The look on the old man's face cleared any and all hope of salvation. His voice was thick as he reluctantly asked the question that was longing to be asked, despite the fact that he felt he already knew the answer. "What is it doctor? What's wrong with me?"

"Constable Crane... I believe you maybe... pregnant."

The words entered his ears, swam around in his mind, and pierced his heart. What little color was left in his skin drained away, leaving it completely snow white. The butterflies that were occupying his stomach were beginning to go completely mad, as if they were trying to burst out of him. "P-pregnant?" he repeated as he suddenly felt his body go limp and darkness take him.

* * *

AN: I know that there was a doctor in the movie, but I couldn't really remember his name or character that well. Don't worry guys, there will be an explainiton for_how _Ichabod got pregnant.


	3. Chapter 3: Fertility

Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow. The film Sleepy Hollow was made by Tim Burton who adapted it from Washington Irving's short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

AN: Thanks to Mel for pointing out that the doctor's name in the movie was "Lancaster", but since I'm lazy, I'm going to leave it "Brown." Thanks anyway.

Chapter 3: Fertility

Consciousness returned slowly to Ichabod. His brown eyes slowly fluttered open and he took in his surroundings. He noticed instantly that he was not in his room, but rather in the doctor's office, lying on top of the examination table, yet he couldn't remember why he was there.

Sitting up slowly he felt a slight twinge in the back of his head. He peered around the room looking for the old doctor, surely Brown would know why he was here. Glancing to his side, he saw a young woman sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. A blissful smile was on her kind face as her hand rested on top of her swollen abdomen. She turned and smiled at him sweetly and Ichabod had to resist the urge to blanch and pass out again.

"Hello, sir," she said good naturedly.

Ichabod tried to look casual, but the feeling of dread that had gripped his heart simply refused to let go. "Hello," he returned politely. He couldn't help but glance at her stomach. "Are you here to see the doctor?"

"Yes," she said, happily nodding down at her belly. "Since the mid-wife was killed by the Headless Horseman, the doctor is the only one I can see in my condition."

Just then Dr. Brown re-entered the room a cheerful smile on his face. A brief look of panic over took him as he glanced over at Ichabod, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "Constable Crane," he said brightly. "Awake at last I see. I'll be with you in a moment." He turned his attention back to the pregnant young woman and as far as Ichabod was concerned, the two might as well have left the room.

Pregnant. He was pregnant! No, it couldn't be true. It was impossible. He was a _man,_ and men didn't get pregnant! Although, ever since he had come to Sleepy Hollow, things that he had once deemed impossible proved to be possible.

He almost chuckled to himself, but fought back the urge, remembering he wasn't alone in the room. Not too long ago he was regretting never having the opportunity to get married and have children and now he was actually_ with child!_ But how?

Hearing the front door of the doctor's office shut, he turned his attention back to the old man. Dr. Brown sighed. "Mrs. Blackwell," he said, referring to the young woman who had just left. "She had been wanting a child for some time now and was finally able to conceive. Thanks to the 'Lake of Fertility' no doubt."

Ichabod's ears perked up at the mention of the word "lake". "Lake?" he repeated. "What lake?"

"A small lake not too far from here. Near the edge of the Western Woods, _only _lake near here to boot. Legend has it that a lonely old witch cursed (although some believe that it was _blessed_) the lake so that who ever drinks so much as a drop of the water will become unimaginably fertile."

Ichabod paled visibly. Was it possible that the lake that he had visited that warm summer night was the "Lake of Fertility"? "This lake," Ichabod began, "is there any chance that it would work on... men?"

The doctor raised an eyebrow at him for a moment before understanding dawned on him. "That would explain it," he said slowly, rubbing his chin in thought. He turned to Ichabod and gave him a curious look. "But if you're the ... the 'mother' then ... who is th-"

"That is none of your concern!" Ichabod said quickly and forcefully. He flushed deep crimson at the thought. The only man that he had ever been with was the Horseman, so this was undoubtedly his child!

_Dear Lord,_ he thought, unconsciously placing a hand on his stomach. _I'm carrying a demon seed!_

Dr. Brown nodded in understanding, it wasn't his business. "Well," he began again, "be that as it may, you may have to tell Miss Van Tassel if no one else."

_Oh Dear God! Katrina! _He felt like kicking himself. How could he forget about Katrina? His heart began to beat like mad. If she ever found out about this, their relationship would be over for sure.

"No."

"No?" the doctor repeated in surprise.

Looking up, he suddenly noticed that he had said that out loud. Still, he didn't feel the need to take it back. "No one must know of this, _especially_ Miss Van Tassel."

Dr. Brown's eyes seemed to double in size at his words. "Surely you must be joking! I thought that you were courting Miss Van Tassel."

"I was. I _am!_"

"Then why would you choose to keep this from her? She'll have to find out sooner or later."

"Dr. Brown, I am asking for your medical advice, _not_ your advice on life!" he exploded. He had enough to deal with already, he didn't need to think about Katrina right now or have an old man tell him what to do. He had no interest in having this old man act as a father figure to him especially when he was about to become one soon. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to _keep _this child!

The doctor gave him a stern look, shaking his head disapprovingly at him. "Well, I suppose it's none of my business-"

"It isn't," Ichabod interjected. He sighed, realizing that he was being rude. "I apologize," he said, sliding off the examination table. "I know that you are merely trying to help, but... it's just... I'm already having a bit of trouble dealing with this situation myself, and I can't rightly expect Katrina to understand something that's happening to _me_ when _I_ don't understand it myself." The doctor's still stern frown told him that the old man wasn't convinced. He sighed in exasperation and tried his best not to snap at him again. "I promise you that I will tell Katrina about my ... my ..._ condition_ as soon as I feel_ I_ can handle it myself, but until then you must promise me you won't tell anyone about this."

Heaving a reluctant sigh, the old man nodded in agreement. "Alright," he said. "Fine. You won't hear a word out of me, but you must take good care of yourself Constable. Get plenty of rest, don't do any heavy lifting and make sure you eat properly. You'll need to gain a lot more weight if you want that baby to be healthy. Any questions?"

Ichabod blushed slightly. "Well... just one," he said nervously. "How... how is the baby going to come out?"

Dr. Brown gave him a startled look. Perhaps he hadn't thought about that either. "Well... since you didn't seem to have an opening for the baby to come out, I suppose that we'll have to cut you open."

Ichabod paled at the doctor's words. "A Cesarean-section+" he said nervously. "Aren't those... fatal?"

Brown nodded solemnly. "Most are, but I recommend that you come back here for the delivery. I have preformed a few of those myself, and I've been successful for the most part."

Ichabod nodded. He paid the doctor and left. The bright sunlight hitting his skin warmed him considerably ... on the outside at least. Inside, the cold grasp of fear and dread on his heart refused to be warmed. He wondered if he was going to be able to survive the next nine months.

* * *

+Dr. Brown is talking about a c-section. Yes, they did exist back then, but they were mostly performed on dying mothers in order to save the children. Most of the women that had c-sections performed on them (that were healthy) died anyway. 


	4. Chapter 4: Plotting the Corse

Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow. The film Sleepy Hollow was made by Tim Burton who adapted it from Washington Irving's short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

**AN:** I just watched Johnny Depp on _Inside the Actor's Studio_ recently and every time he talked about playing Ichabod Crane he would describe him as a "prepubescent girl," and I was instantly reminded of my story. If Ichabod is a prepubescent girl, then this story is sort of about his journey into "woman hood." I just thought I'd share that little tid bit with you folks.

Chapter 4: Plotting the Course

Ichabod sighed as he sat at his desk, hunched over his notebook. Chin resting in the palm of one hand and his pen in the other, he stared at the blank page in front of him. This situation may have been started illogically, but surely he could at least try to make sense of things. Everything could be planned out or organized, why not his pregnancy? He frowned at the word "pregnancy". He still wasn't used to the idea of being with child, but he was trying his best to force himself to get used to it.

Taking a deep breath, he began his planning process. He wrote down on the top of the page "Pregnancy Chart". If he recalled correctly, women tended to carry their babies for about nine months. He had conceived his child around early July, nearly a month ago. He scribbled down the months July to March of next year.

Katrina had told him that she wished to stay in Sleepy Hollow for most of the summer, but perhaps he could convince her to return home sooner. He really wanted to go back to New York, he no longer felt safe in the Hollow knowing that the Hessian was still wandering around the woods. He didn't want to even think about what might happen if the Hessian ever found out he was pregnant with his child. Besides, there were more libraries and medical books for him to study and he really wanted to find out more about his condition so he could understand it better.

So far, he had made it threw the first month and had gotten used to his symptoms, even to the point of finding the pattern that had formed. He would wake up, vomit the food from the previous night, and proceed to suffer a severe headache. For the most part, he was arguably fine in the afternoon, leaving him free to do as he wished with the day. However, he would be exhausted by the time night fell and would go straight to bed. Still, it had only been _one_ month. He had to prepare himself for the next eight.

Under July he placed a dot followed by the word "conception", and under March he placed another dot followed by the word "birth". On second thought, he added a question mark next to the word.

Ichabod sighed as he leaned back in his chair. He really wished he had some type of book on pregnancy, that way he could better plan his symptoms. He knew nothing of pregnancies, or children for that matter.

Ichabod let out a irritated groan at the thought. He was going to give birth without any knowledge of tending to children. His own childhood was only a vague memory to him, marked by events filled with horror and pain. He couldn't give this baby a normal life, that much he knew. He had very little money, no wife and since he was away most of the time, it was more then likely there would be no one to take care of the baby.

_I suppose the only reasonable thing to do is give up the child,_ he thought._ At least give it a chance of a normal life. _He nodded in agreement with his own thought. It was for the best. After all, if the child was not with him then it would make it that much harder for the Horseman to find it.

He scribbled down on a blank page "give up baby," but stopped. For some reason, he didn't want to finish writing it. Did he really want to go through all that work just to give up the child? No more then a few days ago he was regretting never having any children, and now he was going to throw away what may very well be his last and only chance of having any offspring.

_No. I have to think about this rationally. I can't possibly take care of a baby on my own! Children need both a father _and_ a mother!_

As if to make his point, he underlined the words two times.

Moving on, he scribbled next "Tell Katrina" and hesitated for a moment. He still didn't completely understand the situation yet, and he had promised Dr. Brown that he would tell her as soon as he did. It was anyone's guess when he would come to terms with this, and he felt like it wasn't going to be any time soon. He shrugged and put a question mark next to the words.

He sat in silence for a moment before a thought entered his mind; Didn't the Horseman have a right to know about this child?

_No! _He shook his head fiercely, trying to erase the thought. _How could I even entertain that type of thought? After what he did to me, what he's done to all those people in his life and afterlife? He's a madman and a murder!_

_**But this could be the only family he has left. Wouldn't you want to know if there was a chance that you may have some sort of family left?**_

_No, I have had quite enough of family._

_**Then why are you considering keeping the child?**_

****He didn't have an answer for that.

**_Your lonely, that's why. He might be lonely too._**

_He deserves to be alone._

_**Nobody deserves to be alone.**_

****He growled in frustration. It was bad enough to argue with himself, it was even worse to lose said argument. He quickly wrote down "Tell Hessian?" before he could think of stopping himself.

"Happy now?" he asked himself sarcastically before groaning and throwing his arms up in the air. "No, I'm not!"

This was getting annoying. He was simply going back and forth, saying one thing and then a second later, thinking another. Planning this pregnancy wasn't as simple as he had hoped it would be. And he still didn't have any information on pregnancy!

Just then a thought had occurred to him and he felt like slapping himself. Why not just ask Dr. Brown for a medical book on pregnancy? He groaned in annoyance at himself. Why hadn't he thought of that sooner? Neglecting to shut his notebook, he stalked off to talk with the doctor, hoping that the fresh air would clear his head.


	5. Chapter 5: She Finds Out

Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow. The film Sleepy Hollow was made by Tim Burton who adapted it from Washington Irving's short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Warning: Slight Katrina bastardization. I have nothing against Katrina, I'm just writing her this way purely for the sake of the story.

Chapter 5: She Finds Out...

As he walked back to the Van Tassel household, medical book tucked firmly under his arm, Ichabod noticed that he was doing something rather unusual; he was smiling. He was actually smiling. He couldn't remember the last time that he had actually smiled, but he was smiling and despite the situation he was currently in, he actually felt happy.

A part of him was trying to convince him that these feelings weren't sincere, that it was simply another pregnancy symptom, but he didn't want to hear it. He hadn't felt this way in years and he wanted this feeling to last as long as possible.

He smiled and nodded as he pasted the towns people by, only to be rewarded with strange looks. Brown had been rather kind when he showed up to ask for the book. The old man simply smiled and _gave him _one to keep. It was nice to have someone being kind to him for once, usually people would just give him strange looks and treat him like he were mad, but the doctor was treating him just like any other patient and he told himself that this was why he felt so good.

When he finally reached the Van Tassel home, he went straight to his room, anxious to read about pregnancy in order to understand it better. He opened the door to his guest room and felt his heart stop cold. There was Katrina, standing over his desk and his opened notebook.

The situation reminded him so much of the last time he had caught Katrina going through his things, only this time he could tell that it was merely an accident that she had found the notebook.

She turned and stared at him, realizing for the first time that he was there. There was a strange mixture of hurt and anger on her childish face. Her blue eyes were wide and she looked almost as if she had just been struck.

"Katrina," he began, not really certain what to say.

"I wanted to speak with you," she interrupted, trying to explain her presence. "You've been so distant ever since you saw the doctor... now I know why."

"I was going to tell you-"

"When?" she interrupted, her face melting away into a mask of anger. "After we returned to the city? After you gave birth? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I... I was afraid," he admitted meekly, suddenly feeling very small and insignificant. "I didn't know what to think... what to do..."

"And you've been keeping this from me for a month?"

"No!" he cried urgently. "I didn't know about... about ... _this_ for that long. I only just found out when I went to see Dr. Brown."

"But you wrote here under 'July' the word conception," she said, pointing fiercely at the notebook. Her face was flushed red with anger, her small, thin frame seemed to radiate with anger. "You conceived in July. _Conceived!_ What did you mean by that?"

"I-"

"And why did you put down the Hessian's name? Why were you considering telling him and not me?"

"I was going to tell you!"

"And the Hessian?"

"No! I mean..." he took in a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He couldn't let her bully him like this. She was trying to confuse him, trying to throw so many questions at him that he started saying more then what he wanted to. He decided it would simply be better to tell the truth. "Katrina," he began to explain, his voice was confident and steady. "I was attacked a month ago in the woods by the Hessian. I had unknowingly drank from a cursed lake when he... took advantage of me. I only found out about my condition a few weeks ago when I went to see the doctor. I didn't tell you because I didn't know how to explain my condition to you, nor did I completely understand what I was going through myself, but you must believe me when I say that I was planning to tell you as soon as I was ready."

"And what of the Horseman?"

"He is undoubtedly the father of my child," Ichabod said, trying his best to hide the weariness in his tone. "I was considering telling him, but I won't if it upsets you."

Her frown deepened as she turned away from him. She wrapped her arms around her waist as if to support herself and keep her body upright. Pacing the small room, she began to chew on her bottom lip nervously. Ichabod merely stared at her, waiting for this information to sink in. "Your not lying to me, are you?" she asked suspiciously.

Ichabod felt as if he'd been struck. He had just confessed everything to Katrina and yet she still didn't believe him. "W-what?" he stuttered. "Of course I'm not. Why would you say such a thing?"

"We're drifting apart," she stated plainly. Apparently she had noticed it as well. "Even before we came back here, I noticed that you were starting to lose interest in me. I had thought that if we came back here, got out of the city, then maybe we'd be able to reconnect.

"But instead you've gone to the arms of another. You decided to just give up on us without even trying and went to the Horseman just to humiliate me further!"

Ichabod clenched his fist in anger, his face was flushed with rage and frustration. This was _his _problem, _his _condition, and yet she was making herself out to be the poor innocent victim. "Must you make everything about you?" he blurted out in annoyance. Katrina blinked and took a surprised step back. "_I'm _the one who's pregnant, not you, and yet you make it seem like I did all this on purpose! Yes Katrina, I went out and got raped because I wanted to upset you! All I ever think about is you! The whole world is centered around you! Every morning we all wake up to think about you! Katrina, Katrina, Katrina!"

He gasped in surprise as he felt her opened palm grace his cheek roughly. He grasped his bruised cheek in pain and was surprised to taste blood in his mouth.

"You are no longer welcomed here, Ichabod Crane," she growled. "I hope you have the good sense to be gone by the time I wake tomorrow morning." With that, she turned and stormed out of the room, nearly shattering the door with the force that she used to close it.

Ichabod just stood there, grasping his cheek starring into space, wondering how things had gone so awful so quickly.


	6. Chapter 6: Going Away

Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow. The film Sleepy Hollow was made by Tim Burton who adapted it from Washington Irving's short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

**AN:** A lot of people have been complaining about the length of my chapters and I just wanted to address that right now. I've written out the whole story on _paper_ and unfortunately the chapters look a lot longer on paper then when actually typed out. I've tried to beef up the chapters as much as I could, but they still come up short. I'm sorry if your annoyed or frustrated with this, but think of it this way; with the chapters already written out, all I have to do is type them up and your less likely to get long periods of time without an update. I can't grantee that I'll have a chapter up every day or even every week, but I can try.

Chapter 6: Going Away

Ichabod knew that he couldn't stay here any longer. The sun had risen only a few minutes ago and Katrina would be waking up in a few hours. The carriage that he had called for to take him back home would be arriving soon and he wanted to leave Sleepy Hollow before anyone could see him. His heart was heavy and he felt as if he were on the brink of tears as he packed up his belongings. Why had he waited until now to pack? His fingers were trembling and he could hardly fold his clothes. His vision was blurred with unshed tears and he wanted so badly to collapse on to the floor and cry his heart out.

Funny, no more then a few hours ago he had been longing to leave the Hollow and return to New York, and now that Katrina had thrown him out of her home, he felt as if leaving was the hardest thing he'd ever have to do.

_It's merely the pregnancy_, he had told himself but to no avail. Katrina was quite possibly the last chance he had to get married, and now she never wanted to see him again, all because of a baby that he wasn't even sure he wanted!

Now he truly was alone. He had no other friends to speak of and no woman would ever love him now. The image that had come to him in the doctor's office was now back all the clearer. He felt certain that this would be his fate if he gave up this child. Placing a trembling hand on his flat stomach, he had to fight back a broken sob. Was he really so selfish that he would keep this child, ruin its chance of having a normal life, of possible happiness, simply because he was lonely?

_I can't do that,_ he thought miserably._ I won't... and yet... I cannot bare the thought of being away from this child! Why am I so attached to something that doesn't even exist yet?_

He slumped down on to the bed, his legs no longer feeling strong enough to support him. His breathing became labored and before he even realized it, he was openly sobbing. He realized then that he loved the baby without ever even knowing it. The mere fact that it was apart of him, growing inside of his body even now was enough to make a connection on an emotional level. Resting his face in the palm of his hands, he sat hunched over on the straw mattress, crying out all of his weariness and frustration.

He came to the conclusion that he would simply have to bare the burden of taking care of this child all by himself. Perhaps he would get a safer job when he returned to New York. He had always enjoyed books and studying things, perhaps he could become a teacher?

The thought of books reminded him of the one he had borrowed from the doctor. He picked it up and flipped through the pages appsent mindedly. Maybe he should return it? No. Dr. Brown did say he could have it. Further more, he didn't want to draw any attention to his departure. Let the locals talk _after_ he left.

Drying his eyes, he gathered up his things and headed for the door. He paused before he could reach the knob. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled the book of spells that Katrina had lent him. He'd kept it near him ever since she had given it to him. He laid it down on a near by nightstand. He didn't feel Katrina would want him to have it any longer

Ichabod descended the stairs as quickly and quietly as he could, trying his best not to wake anyone. As soon as he walked out of the front door of the Van Tassel home he saw his carriage heading toward him. He realized then that this would be the last time he ever saw Sleepy Hollow. He took a few shaky breaths, trying his best to hold back the emotion that was building up inside of him.

As the carriage pulled up in front of him, he gathered his belongings and readied himself for the long ride. Hopefully the driver wouldn't take too much notice if he started to cry on the way home. He didn't even set foot on the carriage when he heard a voice from behind him.

"Master Crane, wait!" He turned to see Masbath rushing towards him carrying a small bad of his own.

Ichabod quirked an eyebrow at the boy heading toward him. "Masbath," he said, surprise clear in his tone. "What are you doing? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I heard you and Miss Katrina talking yesterday," he said plainly.

Ichabod blushed slightly. He hadn't realized that they had been talking that loudly or that anyone might have been listening. "So you know that I must be going now?"

"Yes sir."

"And you understand why?"

"Yes sir," he said, there was a slight sadness to his tone. Ichabod nodded and readied himself to leave, but was stopped when Masbath spoke up again. "But I don't understand why you didn't tell me."

Ichabod stared at him in disbelief. "Wha... what?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you were leaving? You didn't even wake me."

He smiled as he walked over to the boy, placing his hands on his shoulders fondly. "I'm sorry Master Masbath," he said kindly. "I did not wake you because I planned to leave you here."

"Why?"

"Because this is a burden I must bare on my own."

"But your_ pregnant_ sir!" he exclaimed in a distressed tone.

Ichabod felt his eyes widen in fear and surprise at Masbath's loud tone. "Masbath!" he hissed in a low panicked tone. "Please, you mustn't speak about this out loud! If word about my... my ... _condition _got out, there is no telling what may happen to _you _just because of our association.

"I am sorry, but I cannot stay here and I cannot take you with me. I've put you through enough in the short time that you have been in my service, but no more. I relieve you of your duties. You are no longer in my service.

"Katrina... I mean Miss Van Tassel has taken a shine to you. I am sure that she will take you in."

"But sir," the young man protested. "I do not wish to leave your side! You will need someone to look after you in your current state. Please, let me stay with you."

The young constable felt a lump begin to form in his throat. He had to turn away from the boy's concerned gaze as he felt tears stinging his eyes. He was touched by the child's kind gesture. It was so rare for him to have someone worry about him and yet this young boy was actually concerned about him! Actually wanted to take care of him in his time of need.

"Sir?" Masbath began, pulling him back to the present. "Are you alright?"

Ichabod nodded, pulling out his kerchief to whip at the stray tears that managed to escape. "Yes, I'm fine," he sniffed. He patted the young boy's back fondly then, on an impulse of pure emotion, pulled the startled young man into a tight embrace, pressing his body to his and nearly bursting into tears. Masbath stiffened and Ichabod could almost _feel_ his eyes widen in shock at the gesture. He pulled away from the boy and straightened out his closes, trying his best to regain his composure. "Well, I think we've kept the driver waiting long enough. Let's go home."


	7. Chapter 7: Baby Kicks

Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow. The film Sleepy Hollow was made by Tim Burton who adapted it from Washington Irving's short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Chapter 7: Baby Kicks

The seasons had passed on from summer to autuum. The leaves that still remained on their branches had all changed a charming golden hue and the temperatures had dropped down considerably.

Here, in his New York home, Ichabod rested peacefully in a soft, warm chair near the fireplace. His feet were propped up on top of the near by automon, one hand loosely grasping a book at his side and the other hand lying gently on top of his now slightly swollen belly. His breathing was soft and even as he slept with a small, peaceful smile gracing his pale face.

Masbath approached his sleeping master carefully, being as quiet as possible so he wouldn't wake the man. Holding his breath, the young boy slowly and gently grabbed the book in the constable's hand. He froze as he saw the inspector stir slightly in his sleep, before settling down and breathing evenly once more. Masbath sighed inwardly in relief and continued to pull the book from his laxed fingures.

The boy quitely let out the breath he had been holding inside. The last thing he wanted to do was wake the pregnant man. Masbath had heard men say that their wives often became difficult during their pregnancy, but he never expected the same could be said about a pregnant _man!_

He looked at the cover of the book the Constable had been reading and sighed as he recognized the cover. It was the medical book that the doctor back in Sleepy Hollow had given him. Lately, Ichabod had been reading the book over and over, especially the section on pregnancy. Thumbing threw the pages, Masbath frowned when he landed on a section of the book Ichabod had marked off.

Masbath wasn't from a very well off family. His parents were servents and education hadn't gone much further then learning to spell out his own name. However, thanks to Constable Crane he was able to learn to read and write and understood a good deal of the words in this book (the man really was a fine teacher).

Constable Crane was now five months along, and according to this book, he was in the middle of what was called the "second trimester". He read over the symptoms that were listed.

Increased appetite, yes, the constable certainly was eating more often and his taste in foods had become quit odd to say the least. While once the man had enjoyed eating warm oatmeal in the mornings, he now perferred to have eggs and toast smeared with blueberry jam. Although that didn't sound strange, it looked quite odd when he ate the eggs and toast together! A sickening sight that he had to suffur through every morning. And he was constantly eating! Morning, noon, and night! Even as he watched the older man sleep, he was amazed that he wasn't eating.

However, he was sleeping a great deal, just as it said in the book. Constable Crane would often take naps in the middle of the day and retire to bed rather early, but at night he would here the older man tousing and turning in his bed. Strange, it was as if his body wanted to sleep during the day, but not at night.

Sweeling of hands and feet, the constable had that. Nosebleeds, all too often. Swollen chest, he blushed slightly at the thought. Constable Crane had started to fill out in strange places. His chest seemed to be taking on a more feminine quality. He had also gained a good deal of weight. The normally thin man now had a slight swell in his midsection. It was starting to get hard to conceil his condition. Luckily, the inspector normally wore dark colors which helped to slim him down a bit, and the cooling weather meant that the pregnant man could wear layors of clothes and no one would so much as raize a brow at him.

Ichabod sighed, his brow creasing in a slight frown. Masbath took an unconscious step back hoping that the older man would continue to sleep peacefully. He did _not_ want the man to wake up. There was no telling what type of mood he'd be in. There were times when Ichabod would wake from his nap and would be beaming with pure joy, being as sweet and kind to young Masbath as if the boy were his own son. Others he would wake up weepy and inconsolable from his dream, spending most of the day misreable. Then there were the times when he awoke in a foul mood and everything and anything would irk him. Masbath hated that the most.

_Please let him continue to sleep,_ he pleaded. _Just a few moments more of peace!_

However, it was not meant to be as the older man yawned and streched. Masbath let out a frustrated groan as the older man began to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"What time is it?" Ichabod asked, a yawn bubbling up in the back of his throat.

"Two hours 'til supper, sir," he said trying his best to hide his disappointment.

Ichabod smiled at the mention of food, placing a pale hand unconsciously on his rounded stomach. "Wonderful," he said happily. Masbath relaxed considerably. He was in a good mood. Ichabod stretched and sat up straighter. He was about to get up, but stopped mid way, his eyes widdening slightly in surprise.

Masbath raised his eyebrows at the oldr man questioningly, a look of concern crossing his young face. "Sir?" he said in a slight panic. "What's wrong?"

"I... I felt..." He looked into the concerned eyes of his young servent and smiled reassuringly. "I'm alright," he assured him. He got up carefully, keeping his hands on his round stomach a content smile on his pale face. "Give me your hands," he said gesturing towards the boy.

Masbath quirked an eyebrow at the constable. "Sir?"

Ichabod sighed in slight annoyance as he grabbed the young boy's hand and placed it on top of his belly. Masbath's face turned bright red as he stared wide eyed at his master. "Just wait," Ichabod instructed. The two stood like that for a moment until Masbath felt a strange movement under his hand. "That's the baby," Ichabod chuckled.

A small nervous laugh escapped the boy's throat. "Amazing," he gasped placing his other hand on his master's stomach to see if he could feel the movement again. He smiled as the baby kicked again.

His smile faultered, however, as a sudden thought occured to him. "Sir," he began, his voice was small and uncertain. "How... how is the baby going to... come out?"

Ichabod stared at him in surprise for a moment. He swallowed hard for a second, not really knowing how to explain it to the boy. "Have you ever heard of a 'cerean section', Masbath?" Masbath shook his head and Ichabod motioned for him to sit down on a nearby couch. Ichabod sat down beside him, taking a deep breath before starting again. "It's when the doctor cuts open the... the mother's stomach and removes the baby."

Masbath paled visably at his words. "Isn't that what they do for _dead_ women?"

Ichabod sighed, nodding sadly. "Yes, most of the time, but since I... I have no... _openning_ for the baby to come out, I'll have to find a doctor who will be able to perform this procedure on me."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Masbath asked. "Cutting you open and all... that doesn't sound very safe. Is there any chance of... of...?"

Ichabod nodded, squeezing the boy's shoulder reassuringly. "Yes, there is a chance that I might not survive."

A look of wild panic crossed young Masbath's face. A feeling of guilt over took him. No more then a few minutes ago he had been mentally berating the pregnant man and now he found out that there was a chance that he might die! "No... you can't!"

Ichabod smiled reassuringly at the boy. "No need to worry," he said. "There are plenty of fine doctors out there. Surely there's one in New York that can preform this opperation. Now, let's go see about supper." With that, Ichabod got up and left, but Masbath could tell that the constable simply didn't want to talk about this anymore.


	8. Chapter 8: Into the Den of the Damned

Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow. The film Sleepy Hollow was made by Tim Burton who adapted it from Washington Irving's short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Chapter 8: Into the Den of the Damned

Masbath yawned loudly, rubbing the sleep from his tired eyes. It was fairly late, almost ten already, and Masbath knew that his master didn't like to have breakfast too late. Unfortunately, the young man had over slept and had forgotten to wake his master. Constable Crane, being the far better cook, was the one who prepared all the meals, but Masbath was the one who had to remind him to actually cook them, and the constable was _not_ a morning person, especially in his current condition. Masbath could only pray that he wouldn't be in too foul a mood.

The young man knocked timidly on the older man's door. He paused, waiting for a reply, when he received none, he knocked again. "Sir," he called. "It's time for breakfast." Still no reply. Worry started to spread in his mind. Masbath tried the knob and was surprised to have it turn easily.

"Sir," he called again, peeking inside the constable's room. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach and Masbath's mind was reeling at the sight in front of him. The room was completely neat and devoid of any signs of Constable Crane.

* * *

Ichabod sighed and curled up onto his side contently. He was having the most wonderful dream about his mother, and for the first time, there were no images of her death. There was only him and her sitting in her garden as she held his hand and told him the names of all the plants and their many uses. 

There was a slight pang of regret as he realized that his child would never know its grandmother. He stroked the top of his stomach in his sleep. It was only when he felt it growl did he realize that he had over slept.

_Why didn't Masbath wake me?_ He thought. It wasn't like the young man to let him over sleep. He couldn't risk being late for work. His superiors were already out to get him, the last thing he need was to fuel their intent and give them reason to terminate him.

His eyes fluttered opened slowly, his vision was still blurred slightly from sleep. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around him as a sudden wave of horror over took him. He did not recognize his surroundings, but he had an awful feeling that he knew where he was. He was lying in a pile of furs on the floor of a dark, seemingly endless room. A fire that burned not too far from the edge of his make shift bed was the only source of light in the room. He was certain now that he was inside of the Tree of the Dead.

A figure sat hunched over near the edge of the fire. His back was turned toward Ichabod, but the constable could tell from his dark cloak and bulky form that it was the Hessian. He was working intensely on something in the palm of his hand, and in the fire light, Ichabod caught the gleam of a blade in the dead man's hand.

Ichabod closed his eyes tightly, hoping that he would wake up from this nightmare. _I'm dreaming!_ He told himself._ This is a dream! A horrible, horrible dream! _As hard as he tried to convince himself of this, he knew that it was all very real. Peaking out over the covers, Ichabod felt the color drain from his face as the Hessian turned and glanced at him. The dead man got to his feet and walked over to him.

Ichabod scrambled backward in fear, his thoughts centering on his unborn child._ Please, don't let him hurt my baby!_ He pleaded to what ever spirit might have been watching over him in this evil place. He closed his eyes as tight as possible, his muscles tightening as if he were waiting for some type of blow. When it never came, Ichabod summoned all of his courage and took a timid look in the Horseman's direction.

In the palm of the dead German's hand was a small wooden horse. The horse seemed to have been crafted with such care and love that the constable couldn't turn away from it. He hesitantly reached out to take the horse in his hands, half expecting the Horseman to stab him.

"I... I don't understand," he said quietly, is voice filled with confusion as he ran his pale fingers gently over the small wooden figure.

"For the baby," the Hessian said in heavily accented English.

Ichabod's head snapped up in surprise. "You-you can speak?" he asked in surprise. "You speak_ English?_"

The Hessian nodded. "I have not spoken in over twenty years," he explained, choosing his words carefully. "And I have not had much practice, either, but I have you to thank for being able to do so again."

The mortal blushed at his words and the tenderness that was hidden in them. He looked down at the horse in his hands. Glancing back up to thank the dead man, his eyes caught a glimpse of something he had not seen before. Behind the Horseman was a wooden crib, painted black with dark gray sheets inside of it. Ichabod trembled at the sight.

"For the baby," the Hessian explained.

Ichabod felt his throat clench. "I... it's beautiful," he said honestly. Looking over at the German, he started into his gray eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

"This is my baby?" he asked nodding towards the mortal's rounded stomach. Ichabod nodded slowly. "Then I will take care of you."

Ichabod felt his eyes nearly double in size at his words. "T-take care of me?" he repeated in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because it is my child," he said, giving the young man an odd look, as if he had asked why the sky was blue. "Lay down," he said softly, laying him back down gently and tucking the fur blanket under his chin. "You need rest. I will bring food." A strange slit in nothingness opened up and formed a doorway of fire and blood. The Hessian stepped threw and the doorway closed off behind him.

Ichabod sat up quickly. His mind was muddled with confusion. This was not the reaction he had been expecting from the dead man. Wanting the baby, perhaps, but wanting to take him in and take care of him was something he wasn't prepared for. He placed a gentle hand on top of his round stomach, holding it protectively. From the cradle and the small toy horse, it seemed that the Hessian was planning on keeping him and his baby here for quite sometime and he doubted he'd find away to escape. He curled himself up into a tight ball and began to rock slightly as he waited for the Hessian to return.

The dead man returned an hour later with two large sacks of food he had taken from the village. He hadn't eaten since his death and had forgotten how much food one person could consume. He wondered how long the two sacks would last, especially since the young man was with child and eating for two. He placed the sacks on the floor and pulled out a freshly baked loaf of bread, handing it over to the young man.

The boy was curled into a tight ball, his knees tucked under his chin, and a miserable look on his beautiful young face. The young man looked at the bread questioningly, before timidly reaching for it.

"T-thank you," he stammered uneasily, before picking at the loaf, tearing small pieces and nibbling at them.

The Hessian frowned. No more than an hour down here and already he was miserable. He sighed, dropping his thick black riding cloak around his thin shoulders. The young man clutched the cloak tightly around himself. The Horseman sat down beside him and wasn't surprised when he flinched and scooted away. He chuckled slightly as he stared into the fire.

"You need not worry," he said, trying his best not to frighten the young man. "I will not harm you."

The young man chuckled nervously. "I some how find that hard to believe... coming from you."

The dead German smiled inwardly at the comment. "If I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead."

The young man blanched and swallowed hard. "Yes... that thought had occurred to me."

The Hessian watched the young man eat, trying to think of something he could say that would help him relax. He was so tense; the Horseman wished he could convince him that he wasn't going to hurt him. He had wanted the beautiful mortal since he first saw him. He knew that taking advantage of him that night was wrong, but he simply couldn't resist, he was so damn lovely, and now he was blessed with a child by the young man.

A thought suddenly occurred to him, he was about to have a child with this young man and he didn't even know his name. "Tell me boy, what is your name?"

He stopped picking at the bread just long enough to give him a nervous reply. "I-Ichabod. Ichabod Crane." He glanced at him shyly. "What... what's your name?"

He stared at him blankly for a moment. He had not used his given name in many years and it was hazy at best, but he could just barely recall it. "Viktor," he said at last.

Ichabod nodded. He was about to take another bite of the bread when suddenly he gasped and clutched his stomach. Viktor stared at him in surprise. He grabbed one of the mortal's slightly swollen, pale hands in his large gloved one and stroked it gently. "What is wrong, Ichabod?"

Ichabod blushed. He never would have expected the dead man to be so tender. The kind tone, the soft touch, even the use of his given name was a bit unnerving. "I-it's nothing really," he stammered nervously. "It's just... I felt the... our... baby kick."

Viktor raised his eyebrows at him. Kick? The baby was already kicking? "May I?" he asked, referring to the nervous mortal's stomach. Ichabod nodded shyly in response. He gasped and squirmed as the Horseman placed his large gloved hand on top of his rounded belly. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was wearing nothing more then a thin night shirt. He could feel the heat from the palm of his hand and fought to suppress a moan. He realized then just how long it had been since someone had touched him intimately. In fact, if he recalled correctly, the Hessian himself was the last person to touch him in such a way.

He saw from the corner of his eye a slight smile grace the dead man's face as he felt the baby give a light kick. He chuckled softly, caressing the top of the inspector's stomach gently. "That's wonderful," he murmured.

Ichabod felt his lips quiver and a whimper of pleasure escape them. Viktor smiled wolfishly as he saw the effect his touch was having on the young man. He took this as an invitation and bent down to place a light kiss on the constable's petal soft lips. Ichabod moaned, his eyelids fluttering shut as he felt the Horseman's warm tongue graced against his lips, begging for entry. He parted his lips tentatively, allowing the German's tongue to explore the inside of his mouth.

He knew that this was strange, wrong for him to be doing something like this with another man, but he didn't care. The only thing he cared about was how good it made him feel.

* * *

Ichabod sat trembling and panting from the force of his release. His face was flushed slightly and his skin was still glistening with sweat. His mind was reeling. Never had he imagined that something like this could feel so good. The young constable lay in the arms of German man; resting his head on his broad shoulder as the Hessian rubbed his back in soothing circles. 

Viktor smiled down at the pale young man. "Aren't you glad you didn't faint this time, meine liebe?"

Ichabod chuckled nervously at the remark, still concentrating on catching his breath. He cuddled closer to the Horseman, blushing slightly. "That certainly was a new experience," he said meekly. He looked into the eyes of the dead man hesitantly, mustering up every ounce of courage he had. "V-Viktor? Why... why did you take advantage of me that night?"

"Because I wanted you," he said simply, brushing back a strand of soft black hair with the tips of his roughed fingers.

"Oh... why?"

Viktor chuckled at his words. "Why not? You're beautiful." He gently lifted the mortal's hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss to his finger tips.

Ichabod blushed deeper at his words. Men weren't considered beautiful, and he most certainly didn't consider _himself_ beautiful. "I-I'm not beautiful," he stuttered shyly. "I'm... I'm far too skinny and pale-"

The Hessian silenced him with a fierce kiss to his already swollen lips. He grasped the young man's chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted his head upward. "You _are_ beautiful, and anyone who says otherwise is a fool."

Ichabod had to bit down on his lower lip to keep from crying, but his eyes began to water anyway. He tried to duck his head and turn away, but the Hessian's grip stayed strong. He placed a gentle kiss on his lips and stroked his hair fondly. Leaning into the other man's embrace, Ichabod realized that his stay here wouldn't be as miserable as he had thought.

**AN:** According to Alta Vista, "meine liebe" is German for "my love".


	9. Chapter 9: The Falling Snow

Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow. The film Sleepy Hollow was made by Tim Burton who adapted it from Washington Irving's short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Chapter 9: The Falling Snow

Ichabod sat on the make shift bed inside the Tree of the Dead, staring into the fire. He sighed, feeling utterly bored. He had been down here in the Tree for three months now and he missed the outside world. Viktor may have given him anything and everything that he could ask for, food, clothes, books, but he missed his home. He missed simple things, like being able to go outside by himself. Viktor was very protective of him and the baby. He would only let Ichabod out for a few hours a week, and even during that time, Ichabod wasn't allowed out of the Hessian's sight. Further more, he wasn't permitted to go out during the light hours, since Viktor thought that that time of day was the most dangerous.

His time in the Tree was spent mostly sleeping and eating. He felt completely useless, unable to earn his keep. It was like he was a mere child.

Ichabod stroked the top of his stomach gently. He had gained a good deal of weight now that he had nothing to do all day. It was a strange change for him, to be soft and round instead of small and thin. He wondered briefly if he would be able to lose the weight after the baby was born. At that moment, he wished that he had the medical book that the doctor had lent him.

Ichabod fingered the wooden horse that the Hessian had made for their baby. It took him a while to get used to the fact that the Hessian actually loved him and that he loved him back, but now he just felt smothered. He longed for some time to himself, outside of the Tree.

Just then, the Horsemen came back in threw the doorway of fire and blood. He rode in on top of his dark steed, Daredevil, with two sacks on his back. He dismounted from the ghost horse with a thud, placing the larger of the two sacks down in front of the constable.

"I brought you your dinner, meine liebe," he said. "Eat. You need your strength."

Ichabod shook his head half heartedly, clutching the toy horse in his hand closer to him. "I'm not hungry," he said meekly.

Viktor frowned at the young man's words, something that would usually strike fear into the hearts of those who gazed upon him, but Ichabod was used to the gesture and simply continued to wallow in his own self pity. "You must eat, if not for yourself then for the child. You hardly ate your breakfast _or _your lunch."

"I don't feel like eating, Viktor."

The Horseman knelt down in front of the young man, grasping his hand softly in his and began to them stroke it gently. The miserable look on the lovely young mortal's face was enough to make the German's heart clench in sympathy. He loved the boy dearly and knew that he didn't deserve him or the gift that the young man was carrying inside of him. "What is it, meine liebe? What do you desire? Whatever it is, you only need ask."

Ichabod looked up at him sadly, a small glimpse of hope shinning in his dark brown orbs. "I want to go outside," he said, then added timidly, "alone."

Viktor stared at him in disbelief for a moment before shaking his head at him. "No," he told him. "I am sorry meine liebe, but it is too dangerous."

"But you said I could have whatever I wanted!" he said desperately as tears began to form in his dark brown eyes.

The dead man felt his heart break at the sight before him. He knew that the pregnancy was making Ichabod overly sensitive, but he still couldn't stand to see him this way. Yet he wanted to stay firm to his point. He shook his head sternly. "I am sorry, it is too dangerous."

"Please. Can't you just let me be alone? Just for once?"

He sighed. There was no way he could keep the boy here with him forever. He knew that it was only a matter of time before he drifted away from him. He nodded quickly, kissing the back of the pregnant young man's hand. "Promise me you will not wander far."

Ichabod smiled, wrapping his arms around the Hessian's neck. "Yes," he promised, tears of joy falling freely down his pale cheeks. Pulling back, he quickly wiped the tears from his face. He unconsciously put the wooden horse that he had been fingering into the pocket of his coat before he started get up. He struggled for a moment, his round belly making it hard for him to move about freely, before the Hessian gathered him in his arms and lifted him onto Daredevil's back. Despite the weight gain, the constable was still very light. Mounting the ghost horse, he wrapped one arm around the mortal's swollen middle and gripped the reins tightly in his free hand, the doorway of fire and blood emerged and the Hessian rode through.

Ichabod closed his eyes and cringed slightly as he felt the now familiar wave of nausea that occurred when passing through the portal. He only opened his eyes again when he felt the cold, fresh winter air caressing his face. The Hessian then slid off of the horse from the back and helped the pregnant young man down. Taking off his thick black riding cloak, he draped it around the mortal's shoulders. Ichabod gripped the cloak tightly around himself. Despite the fact that he was out in the sunlight for the first time in months, the inspector still looked miserable.

Ichabod began to stalk off into the woods and the Horseman felt his heart break in half. Viktor sat on a near by snow covered log and let out a long sigh as he stared at the retreating form of his young lover. He wondered how much time he had left with Ichabod.

* * *

Ichabod looked around the snow covered forest around him and sighed. It felt like ages since he had last seen the sunshine and had almost forgotten how good it felt. He shivered slightly, it was still cold out. 

He wandered threw the forest and began to feel his mind drifting. Was this really how his life was going to be? Having to ask permission just to go outside alone? He frowned at the thought, placing a protective hand on top of his swollen abdomen. What would things be like for their baby? Taking its first steps inside of a death tree, never knowing a moment's privacy. He couldn't let that happen.

Yet in his heart, he knew he loved the Hessian and wanted the other man to be a part of their child's life. He suddenly felt very tired as he went to sit down on a near by tree stomp. The sky seemed to darken ever so slightly as soft puffy snowflakes drifted down to the ground all around him. Things suddenly became very blurry and Ichabod found it a little hard to see, but the gently falling snow relaxed him a bit. He sighed, seeing his breath very clearly, and began to rub small circles on his stomach as he felt the baby begin to move inside of him in a somewhat frantic manner.

"What's wrong?" he asked his baby quietly, frowning slightly. He turned his gaze over to his side and gasped in surprise. He was sitting beside the Lake of Fertility! That must have been why his baby was moving around so much.

He stood up and gazed at the frozen water. He felt his throat clench and tears threaten to spill. He was back at the beginning, standing in the same spot where all of this had started. If he hadn't come here that warm summer night, he never would have conceived. None of this would have ever happened, and yet, even then he hadn't been the one to decide weather or not that event would take place. It seemed as though the past few months had been decided for him.

_No more,_ he thought as determination started welling up inside of him. _I will not be letting others decide things for me anymore._

His ears seemed to perk up as he heard the faint sound of someone calling his name. He turned and looked behind him. Through the haze of the falling snow, he was barely able to make out two figures on horseback.

He staggered towards the two figures, his legs seeming to move by their own will, the Hessian only a faint thought in the very back of his mind. After a moment he was able to make out the two figures as Katrina and Masbath. He gapped at the two in surprise, his tired mind unable to form words.

"Ichabod?" he heard Katrina say from the distance.

"K-Katrina?" he stammered, his mind in a daze.

Sliding off the white mare she had been riding, she rushed over to his side and wrapped her arms around his neck. Ichabod unconsciously stumbled backwards. He blinked in confusion, his head was spinning, he couldn't think straight. The last time he had seen Katrina she had slapped him and told him she never wanted to see him again. Now, she was actually hugging him!

Katrina took a step back from him in surprise, holding him at arms length. She stared down at his stomach, now too round to hide, making his condition painfully clear. Her eyes widened with surprise. "Ichabod!" she gasped. "You... you... you have gotten so_ big!_"

He nodded unconsciously. "Katrina," he began. "Wha... what is going on? What are you doing out here?"

"We were looking for you," she explained calmly, her voice soft and soothing similar to one that you would use to speak to a small child.

"Looking for me?" he repeated in confusion.

"Yes sir," Masbath said as he walked over toward the two. His was practically glowing with relief. "When you were kidnapped three months ago... well... I got worried. I contacted the authorities, but no one seemed to be able to find you. After a while, I came here, to the Hollow, to get Miss Katrina and ask for her help in finding you."

"It wasn't easy," Katrina said, still holding Ichabod's shoulders. "I cast a location spell to find you. It said that you were here somewhere, but it wasn't able to say _exactly_ where. I realized then that you were probably being held captive by the Horseman." Her voice faltered as she frowned slightly, a sad sort of relief over taking her childish face. She leaned forward and embraced him tightly. "I was so worried we'd never be able to find you," she sobbed. "How ever were you able to escape?"

Ichabod stared at her blankly as he tried to register what she had said. Captive? Was that what he was? Suddenly, it felt very much like that. He had to ask the Hessian permission for everything. Viktor told him when to sleep, what he could and couldn't eat, he even made him stay inside all day long, only allowing him to leave if he were there to supervise him.

"I... he... he let me go," he said truthfully.

Katrina quirked an eyebrow at him. "Let you go? How? Why?"

"I... I asked."

Both Katrina and Masbath stared at him bewildered. He wanted to explain everything to them. He wanted to tell them that the Hessian loved him and he loved the other man as well. He wanted to tell them that in the time he had spent inside the Tree of the Dead, the Horseman had never even raised his voice at him. He mentally shook his head, he knew that they would never understand, he couldn't even grasp it completely. "It's... it's difficult to explain," he said quietly.

"Well, you can tell us about it back home," Katrina said sweetly, tugging at his arm and dragging him towards the horses.

Ichabod felt his eyes widen in surprise and his mouth drop open. "H-home?"

She nodded, pulling him a little harder now. "Come now Ichabod, before you catch a cold."

He was about to reply, but Masbath cut him off, grabbing his other arm and dragging him off in the same direction Katrina was. "She's right, sir," he added. "The snow seems to be getting heavier. It probably won't be good for you or the baby to stay out here."

Ichabod felt confused, neither one of them seemed willing to let him go and he wasn't sure if he wanted to go with them or not. He sighed and let himself be dragged off toward the Van Tassel home.


	10. Chapter 10: The Mistakes We Make

Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow. The film Sleepy Hollow was made by Tim Burton who adapted it from Washington Irving's short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Chapter 10: The Mistakes We Make

Ichabod sighed looking out the window and watching the gently falling snow. He sat in a chair next to the window in the attic guest room of the Van Tassel home. His hand rested on top of his round stomach sadly as he thought about the mistake he now realized that he had made. He should never have left Viktor like that. He missed him terribly. He had tried to explain to Katrina that the Hessian had never harmed him, but she would not believe him. She merely thought that the Hessian had put some sort of spell on him and was controlling his mind, and to make matters worse, she had had the new priest come by and bless the house, so now Viktor couldn't get in.

Even worse was the fact that she wouldn't let Ichabod leave his room. She had placed him on bed rest and forced him to stay locked in his room. He sighed, she was worse then Viktor!

He heard a soft knock on the door and suspected that it was Masbath come to check on him. The boy was well meaning, but after a while pampering got old, especially when it came from someone younger then you.

"Come in," he called.

Katrina came in then, with Masbath following close behind her carrying a tray of food. She frowned when she saw Ichabod sitting by the window.

"Ichabod," she chided. "What are you doing out of bed? You shouldn't be moving around in your condition!" She walked over to him and helped him to stand.

He grunted, struggling to his feet. "Katrina," he grunted in slight annoyance. "It isn't as though I was doing any heavy lifting or the like!" He let out a long, slow breath, rubbing his back and placing a supportive hand on his hip.

"Are you alright, Ichabod?" Katrina asked her voice full of concern. "Does your back hurt?"

Ichabod shook his head slightly. "No, no," he said as he waddled over to the bed. He clasped on the bed, causing the frame to squeak slightly. Katrina came over and tucked him in, rearranging his pillows so that he could sit up comfortably.

"Here you are, sir," Masbath said as he came over and placed the tray in Ichabod's lap. A steaming bowl of beef stew and a warm cup of tea lay before him.

Ichabod breathed in the sent happily, a smile gracing his pale face. "Thank you Masbath," he said, taking the warm bowl in his hand.

Katrina turned to Masbath and smiled. "Masbath," she said softly, "could you give Ichabod and I a moment of privacy."

Masbath nodded before quickly turning to leave the room. Katrina then pulled the chair next to Ichabod's bed and took a shaky breath.

Ichabod raised his eyebrows at her, concern crossing his face. "Katrina," he began, putting down the bowl of stew, "is something the matter?"

"Yes," she said nervously. "There is something I have been meaning to say to you."

Ichabod grabbed the nervous young girl's hands and held them in his. "What is it Katrina?" he urged gently. "Tell me."

Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes and she bowed her head in shame. "I wanted to say," she began, "that... I'm sorry. I am so very sorry Ichabod!"

He raised an eyebrow at her in startled confusion. "Sorry?" he repeated. "What ever for?"

"For the way I acted. I never should have yelled at you, or sent you away! It was wrong of me and I realize that now. It was just... I was so... so jealous!"

"Jealous?" Ichabod practically squeaked the word.

"Yes, jealous," she continued, the tears falling freely now. "I wanted to have your children; I wanted your first babe to be with me. Now with _him!_" She paused as she took in a few shaky breaths, trying to calm herself. "I know now that I should never have accused you of all those awful things, but I am going to do my best to make it up to you." She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze as she said this. "I promise you, I will love this child as if it were my own. I swear to you, Ichabod, I shall be the best mother I can."

Ichabod sighed, looking down at their linked hands sadly. He rubbed the tops of her knuckles with his thumb softly. He couldn't do this; he couldn't let her think that they had a future together. "I am sorry Katrina," he said softly, "but I love the Hessian dearly and since this is his baby as well as mine, I think that it is only right that I raise the child with him."

He looked at her then, and saw that her eyes were red with tears and wide as she stared at him puzzled. Her cheeks were tear stained and her small pink mouth hung open slightly in shock. "You must be joking," she gasped. "How could you love that man? He's a _monster!_"

He shook his head slowly at her. "You simply do not understand," he said softly. "You do not know him the way I do. He was so kind and loving to me before... I realize now that I was wrong to leave him and can only pray that he will forgive me."

She frowned at him then. "He really did turn you against me, didn't he?"

"No!" he said quickly. "I assure you that my feelings for him came naturally."

"But you cannot raise a baby with just two men! A child needs a mother!"

Ichabod felt his eyes begin to water as he let go of her small white hands. "I know," he said sadly. "I know that. I am not a woman and I am no mother, I never will be, but I love my baby. There may be no real word for what I am, but I can only try my best. All I can do is love it with all my heart."

Katrina's frown deepened. It was clear that she realized that she was losing this argument. "Very well then," she said, getting up from her seat beside him. "I shall leave you to your meal." With that she began to walk away.

"Katrina!" Ichabod said, stopping her in her tracks. She turned back to look at him. "I know my words have hurt you," he said softly, "but... well I am sorry and if it means anything... I accept your apology."

She smiled at him briefly, a small twinkle in her eyes and Ichabod could tell that she had no hard feelings either. "Get some rest Ichabod," she said softly before leaving the room.

Ichabod sighed as he reached underneath his pillow and pulled out the wooden horse that Viktor had made for their child. He looked down at the wooden figure in his hand sadly as he stroked the top of his belly. "I am sorry, Viktor," he whispered softly, feeling tear drops running down his cheeks.

* * *

The Hessian looked at the small town from the edge of the woods. He sat perched on top of Daredevil, holding the reins tightly in one hand and scratching the dead horse's ear with the other. He knew that his love had returned to the Hollow, to the arms of the White Witch, but he did not understand why. Ichabod had told him that he was not comfortable in the town and that he no longer cared for the Van Tassel girl. So why did he leave him for this?

_Would you prefer anything else to being with me, meine liebe?_ he thought sadly.

What right did he have anyway to keep a creature of light hidden away in the darkness? The boy needed the sunshine so that he could bloom properly. He would only pray that the beautiful young man would take pity on him and allow him to see their child once in a while, but he knew that it was much more then a monster like him deserved.

With a heavy sigh, he toughed on the reins and turned Daredevil around, heading back to the prison that for three wonderful months had actually felt like a home.


	11. Chapter 11: Almost There

Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow. The film Sleepy Hollow was made by Tim Burton who adapted it from Washington Irving's short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Chapter 11: Almost There

Constable Crane slept peacefully as he lay back on the soft mattress, his left hand on top of his swollen belly, his other hand hanging off the side of the bed. Long, dark lashes rested on top of pale skin as his eyes roamed underneath his closed lids. He looked oddly innocent, almost child like, in his sleep.

Masbath smiled down at him. He carefully placed the sleeping man's right hand on top of his stomach and pulled the blankets up under his chin. It wasn't really necessary, the weather had warmed considerably since they were now well into spring. The sun was shinning, the last bit of snow was melting away, and the birds had come back, singing their lovely songs. Still, he thought that he might want it, for the sake of comfort if nothing else.

Masbath sighed as he went to close the blinds in order to help the older man sleep. He was just about to leave the room when he suddenly heard a moan escape from the constable's lips. The boy turned and was surprised to see that he was grabbing his stomach, his face red and twisted in pain.

"Sir!" he exclaimed, rushing over to the constable's side. "Are you alright?"

Ichabod barely managed to nod in response. His eyes were shut tight, and his jaw was clenched. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, he relaxed his body, leaning back into the bed, gasping and panting.

"I'm... I'm quit alright," Ichabod reassured him between gasps of breath. He struggled to sit up for a moment before Masbath helped him, rearranging his pillows. "I've been getting cramps every ten or so minutes. I was about to call for assistance when I blacked out from the pain."

Masbath blushed slightly at his own obliviousness. This whole time he had thought the man was sleeping! A thought suddenly popped into his head as he looked at Ichabod, alarm spreading on his face. "Sir, is it the baby?"

Ichabod nodded. "I think so," he said, he tried to hide the panic building up in his voice, but it managed to seep into his words anyway. "Masbath," he gasped, feeling the beginning of another cramp welling up inside, noting mentally that it was coming much quicker after the last. "Quickly, go get D-Dr. Brown. Tell him... tell him..." his words were cut off as he felt the same wave of pain wash over him completely. He lost his train of thought as he clenched his eyes shut and moaned in pain.

Masbath didn't need to hear or see anymore. He knew what needed to be done. He quickly went out the door and down the stairs, nearly toppling Katrina in the process.

"Masbath!" she gasped in surprise, grabbing his shoulders in order to calm him down and keep him from running off. "What ever is the matter?"

"It's Master Crane!" he said in a panic. "He's about to have the baby!"

Katrina's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, her mouth hung open in shock. "Now? Right now?" she asked dumbly, panicking further when Masbath nodded in confirmation. "Oh no! Not good!"

I'm going to get the doctor," Masbath told her, hoping to snap her back to reality and get on with his task.

Katrina nodded unconsciously. "Right, I'll go and comfort him." That said, she rushed up the stairs into the attic room, there she saw Ichabod thrashing about in pain. She rushed over to his side and grasped his hand. "It's alright Ichabod. I'm here now."

"Viktor!" he sobbed, tears of pain welling up in his eyes. "I want Viktor!"

Katrina starred at him bewildered. "Who is Viktor, Ichabod?" she asked calmly. "Tell me and I shall do my best to find him." She couldn't make any promises, for all she knew this Viktor person could have lived in another town, miles away.

Ichabod shivered, gasping as the pain subsided. He didn't answer her question; he couldn't even remember what it was she asked him. He merely went limp and concentrated on breathing.

Katrina took this as her chance to let go of his hand. The man seemed weak, but his grip was like a vise! She winced, her hand still tender. Hurrying out the door, she found the nearest servant and told them to bring cold water and a wet cloth to Ichabod's room. She then hurried over to her room to retrieve her book of spells.

Returning to Ichabod's room, she pulled a chair beside the tired young man's bed and began chanting. The pregnant man relaxed considerably, his eyes glazed over and his breathing steadied.

"Viktor," he murmured his voice distant and small.

Katrina ignored him and continued to chant.

* * *

Something was not right, he could feel it. The Hessian's head popped up and his ears strained, listening for any hint of movement in the Western Woods. He couldn't hear anything, couldn't see anything, but he could _feel _something. His stomach lurched and his heart clenched. It must have been Ichabod, he was in trouble. He couldn't explain it, but somehow he was able to sense that his lover was in danger. 

With a mere thought, Daredevil was at his side. Mounting the ghost horse, he quickly rode threw the portal that connected his world to the living realm. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to his love.

* * *

Ichabod winced as another cramp spread threw his stomach and back. Thanks to Katrina's spell, the pain was no longer as extreme as before, but it still hurt him and he wished for this whole ordeal to be done and over with. 

"Viktor," he said softly. He turned his head to the side, noticing that Katrina hadn't heard him. He spoke louder this time. "Viktor," he repeated. "I... I need him here."

Katrina sighed and turned her attention to him, pausing in her chanting. "You have said that before, Ichabod," she said, trying her best to hide her annoyance, "but you did not answer my question: who is he?"

Ichabod flushed slightly and licked his lips nervously. "The... the Horseman," he said truthfully. Katrina merely stared at him and gave him a look that said "surely you're joking!" "I know you do not like him, but you must understand, this is _his_ child! He should be allowed to be around when the baby is being born."

Katrina merely shook her head, a humorless smile on her face. "And what will be the point of having him here Ichabod? It is not as if he shall be here with you when you deliver!"

"At least he will hold my _hand!_" he shot back. Katrina gave him a shocked look, but Ichabod did not flinch. "I need him here, Katrina. If you were in my position, you would understand."

Ichabod was interrupted when Masbath returned with Dr. Brown in toe. Katrina looked up at the old man startled and jumped out of her seat, her concentration was completely broken and Ichabod clenched his hand around the sheets, gritting his teeth in pain.

"I see I have arrived just in time," the old doctor said, putting down his medical case on the now empty chair. He lifted the young man's nightshirt and nodded. "Hm," he said. "Looks like we will have to take this baby out right now."

"No!" Ichabod gasped in distress.

"No?" Dr. Brown repeated, raising a quizzical eyebrow at the constable.

"No! Not yet," he panted pleadingly. "I need... Viktor. Please, please."

Dr. Brown turned to look at Katrina. "Who is Viktor?" he asked.

Katrina looked from the miserable young man's pained face to the old doctor staring at her in confusion. She sighed. "He is the father."

"Well, where is he?"

Katrina slumped her shoulders in defeat. "Can I have a moment alone with Ichabod?"

Masbath and Brown complied, leaving the room and closing the door behind them.

"Ichabod," Katrina began, kneeling down beside his bed. "I have a confession to make." He turned and looked at her wearily. "I... I lied about the priest coming by to bless the house."

His eyes nearly doubled in size. "W-what?" he stuttered.

"I... I just didn't want you to try and contact him, or think that he could come and get you. I'm sorry, Ichabod, but I can make it up to you!"

Ichabod frowned at her in annoyance. How many terrible things was she going to do and then apologize for? "How?"

"I shall go send Masbath out to get him. Just try and hold on a little longer."

**AN:** I know, I know. I'm a total bitch for cutting off the chapter here, but I promise to update next week. So just wait a little longer.


	12. Chapter 12: Here At Last!

Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow. The film Sleepy Hollow was made by Tim Burton who adapted it from Washington Irving's short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Chapter 12: Here At Last!

Viktor urged Daredevil to move faster, digging his spurs into the black steed's side. The horse was moving with all of his might, flying through the woods, but to the dead man, he seemed to be moving in slow motion. He wanted so badly to see if Ichabod was alright. He _needed_ to make sure that he was alright; he couldn't bare the thought of him being somewhere frightened and in pain.

He slowed slightly as he reached the boarder of the Hollow. The town's people seemed to be in an uproar and he hadn't even been noticed yet. He moved closer toward the town, doing his best not to be noticed. He heard one of the men say that the town doctor was seen heading toward the Van Tassel house with his medical tools in hand.

Dread and realization filled the German as it dawned on him suddenly; Ichabod was in labor! He was about to have the baby and yet he was so far away, unable to comfort him, take him in his arms and make all the pain go away.

With a wick kick to the sides, Daredevil thundered down the road as the Hessian begged whatever higher being that would take pity on him that he was not too late. He didn't even pause as the villagers fled in terror at the very sight of him. He arrived at the Van Tassel house, a crowd having formed around the main door, but he cleared them all away with one look.

Dismounting from the dead horse, Viktor busted through the door and thundered up the stairs, paying no mind to the stares and screams that he heard as he passed. He didn't care, didn't give anything a second thought. He only wanted to see Ichabod.

Nearing the attic door, he stopped and was surprised to see the White Witch, standing in front of the door, between him and his lover. She paled slightly at the sight of him and took a step back into the room moving aside in order to allow him in. He nodded and then entered the room, his eyes going straight to Ichabod who was lying on the bed, face twisted in pain, tears of agony running down his pale cheeks. A gasp of pain escaped his lips and the Horseman instantly rushed over to the young constable's side, grasping his hand and kissing his finger tips.

"It is alright, meine liebe," he murmured, caressing the back of his hand. "I am here now."

Ichabod turned to the Hessian his eyes wide and red with tears. "V-Viktor?" he said, his tired face lit up slightly with joy. He smiled weakly at the dead man, tears of happiness welling up in his eyes. "I am so sorry," he sobbed, but was silenced when the Hessian pressed a gentle kiss to his soft lips.

"There is nothing to be sorry for. We are together now, that is all that matters."

Dr. Brown re-entered the room, a bit squeamish at the fact that he was in the same room as the infamous Headless Horseman. "P-pardon my intrusion, s-sirs," he stuttered nervously. "I think that it would be best if… if we operated n-now."

Ichabod nodded, tightening his grip on the dead German's hand. "Yes, yes I am ready now."

Viktor gazed down proudly at the boy. He was certainly much braver then anyone gave him credit for.

The old man glanced at the Hessian nervously. "I'll... I'll need you to, um, leave the room sir," he told him.

Viktor frowned, but Ichabod squeezed his hand, causing the Hessian to look down at him. "Please Viktor, I know it is hard for you, but you must understand that it is for the best."

The Horseman nodded before placing a gentle kiss on the young man's lips. "I love you, meine liebe," he murmured against his petal soft lips.

"I love you, too," Ichabod said shyly.

With that, the Hessian turned and left the room.

* * *

Viktor waited anxiously in the hall for the doctor to give him word on his lover's condition. He must have been a strange sight. The fearsome Hessian Horseman of Sleepy Hollow sitting hunched over at the foot of the flight of stairs waiting on the condition of a pregnant man.

He grunted in frustration, glancing at the boy standing near the opposite wall. The boy was braver then he looked. He was the only one willing to wait with him. Even the White Witch couldn't stomach being in the same room as the man who had killed her father and left.

The boy noticed that the Hessian was starring at him and began to fidget nervously. He glanced down uneasily at his feet, hopping the dead man would look away.

"A-are you worried?" the boy asked, trying to fill the awkward silence.

He was worried, but he didn't want to admit it to this child. Still, a part of him was certain that Ichabod would survive. "He will live," he said simply. He turned and raised an eyebrow at the boy. "Why do you not flee?" he asked. The Hessian bore his sharp teeth in a wolfish grin. "Are you not afraid of me?"

It was clear that he was since he began to tremble at the sight man before him, turning his head away sharply. "I... I am but," he stammered in fear, "I... want to see if he'll be alright."

Viktor smirked, chuckling at the frightened boy's response. Clearly this was a good boy if he was so loyal to the constable.

His musings were interrupted, however, when he heard a small voice wailing in the attic room. He turned and looked up at the door. It opened moments later, and Dr. Brown stepped through, holding a small bundle in his arms.

"It's a girl!" he said proudly.

The Hessian just starred up at the bundle in the man's arms. A mixture of wonder and disbelief filled him as he gazed upon the little miracle the old man was holding. A girl, a baby girl. He had a daughter. He couldn't remember a happier day. He walked up the stairs in a bit of a daze. When he reached the top, he glanced down at the new born babe. Her skin was flushed a light pink color, and already the Hessian could tell she was going to be fair skinned. She had soft wisps of raven black hair resting on top of her head and her eyes were a startlingly light blue.

Taking the tiny bundle in his strong arms, he was startled to find that the babe cooed and snuggled closer to his warmth. He fell in love with her right then and there. She was so beautiful, just like Ichabod.

_Ichabod!_

His thoughts returned to his lover, remembering that the doctor had yet to tell him how the mortal had faired. "Ichabod," he said. "How is he?"

"He is fine," Dr. Brown said and the Hessian felt a weight lifting from his heart. "He is resting now, you can see him if you wish."

Entering the room, baby in arm, he instantly went to kneel by his lover's still form. He looked so peaceful in his unconscious state. His skin was paler then usual and glistening with sweat, causing his hair to cling to his forehead. The slight rising and falling steadily of his chest was the only thing that convinced Viktor that the young man was still alive.

Viktor placed a gentle kiss on the unconscious constable's lips. "I am so proud of you, meine liebe," he whispered to him. "We have a beautiful baby girl."

The sound of the boy clearing his throat from behind him caused the Hessian to turn and frown over his shoulder. He raised a questioning eyebrow at the boy, annoyed at having his moment with his new family interrupted.

"P-pardon me, sir," he stammered nervously, "but I don't think that you should be staying here too long."

"He's... he's right," the doctor added in frightened nervousness. "The town is already in an uproar from when they saw me heading over here. You rushing over to this house in broad daylight could only have made matters worse."

The Horseman's frown deepened. They were right, he couldn't stay and yet he knew it was too soon for him to take Ichabod and the baby back to the Tree with him, and it was likely that the mortal wouldn't even want to go back with him.

He sighed, placing a gentle kiss on his baby's forehead before handing her over to the doctor. Turning to the boy he said, "Tell him that I shall return tomorrow evening."

"I will," he promised.

The Hessian nodded. He turned and cast one last look at Ichabod's sleeping form before leaving the Van Tassel home.


	13. Chapter 13: Ichabod's Heart

Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow. The film Sleepy Hollow was made by Tim Burton who adapted it from Washington Irving's short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Chapter 13: Ichabod's Heart

Ichabod's dark brown eyes fluttered open slowly, taking in the world around him. His memory was fuzzy, he could barely recall anything. He moaned slightly, turning his head to the side, his eyes half lidded with sleep. It was early morning, he could tell by the bright yellowish orange sunlight streaking in through the window and the faint bird songs he heard from outside.

He tried to sit up, but his midsection was weak and he ended up collapsing back on the soft mattress with a groan. Placing his hand on top of his stomach, he was startled by how flat and sore it felt. He gasped as realization struck him. The baby!

Just then, Masbath entered with a tray of food in his hands.

"Masbath!" he said frantically. "What happened? Where is my baby?"

"The baby's just fine, sir," he informed him calmly. "It's a girl. A very pretty one, too, if I might say."

Tears of joy began to sting the constable's brown orbs. "A girl? I... I have a daughter?" Hot tears began to run down his pale cheeks as he heard the words with his own ears. "Where is she? I want to hold her."

Masbath placed the tray of food down on a nearby desk before helping his master into a sitting position. He then went over to a near by crib that was decorated with little pink ribbons. It looked old and was likely Katrina's. Masbath lifted the baby out and gently placed her in Ichabod's waiting arms.

"She's so beautiful," Ichabod sobbed caressing her cubby cheek with his pale, graceful fingers. He smiled as she seemed to cuddle closer to him. He couldn't believe that he had been carrying this inside of him for nine months. He realized now just how much this child meant to him. It wasn't just a baby; it was his will to live, his reason for waking every morning. It was almost as if he were holding his heart in his arms.

_My heart,_ he thought happily as the child rubbed her eyes with the back of her little fist. He was so glad that he had decided to keep this child.

He looked up suddenly as a thought occurred to him. "Where is Viktor?" he asked. Masbath's blank stare reminded him that he didn't know who he was talking about. "The Horseman. Where is he?"

"He left sir."

Ichabod's heart sank at the boy's words. "He left?"

"Yes sir," Masbath said, the crushed look on the older man's face making him feel a bit uneasy. "But he did say that he would be back this evening."

Ichabod looked away sadly. Because of his foolish behavior, Viktor almost missed their child being born. He felt horrible about running away from the Hessian, but he simply couldn't take being locked up like that. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to be near Viktor, but he didn't want to be trapped inside of the Tree of the Dead again.

"Leave me for a moment, Masbath," he told his young servant in a hushed tone. "I need to be alone."

The boy nodded and complied, casting one last worried glance at the older man before leaving the room.

Ichabod sat there, cradling his baby close to his chest. He bent slightly and kissed the top of her soft hair, nuzzling it lovingly and breathing in her wonderful scent. "Oh My Heart," he murmured to her lovingly, "I promise that I shall never, ever hurt you. I love you so much it hurts me." A tear escaped his eye and fell on to the top of the newborn's head. The babe scrunched up her face in what appeared to be a frown and gurgled in displeasure. Hearing this, Ichabod ran his fingers lovingly up and down her back. "Shh," he soothed. "Please do not cry My Heart. I love you, do not cry."

* * *

Ichabod wouldn't let anyone part him with his baby for the rest of the day. Whenever a servant came into the room offering to change her or feed her, Ichabod would protest and hold the baby tighter. Katrina had given him a tea that helped him to gain most of his strength back, allowing him to be able to stand long enough to relieve himself and change the baby. 

Still, for the rest of the day, Ichabod remain in bed, child in arms, waiting for the Hessian. He came at ten, the sun having already set and most of the people in the Hollow at home; it was much easier for the dead man to sneak in.

When Ichabod saw Viktor come into the room, he felt his heart lighten, a small smile gracing his lips. The Horseman was at his side right away. He cupped the young man's chin in one gloved hand, titling his head up and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

Ichabod felt his eyes instantly begin to water, his smile wavered and he bowed his head in shame. "Viktor," he sobbed. "I am so sorry." Tears began to pour down his face as his voice became thick with emotion.

Cupping the crying mortal's face in his hand, Viktor whipped a stray tear from his cheek with his thumb. "Do not cry mein geliebter," he said softly. "There is nothing to be sorry for."

"Yes! Yes there is!" he sobbed guilt and shame taking over him. "You almost missed our baby being born! If I had not been so selfish-"

"You are not the selfish one, Ichabod," he interrupted. "I am. I had no right to keep you locked up in that tree. I was simply afraid that you would run away from me, and yet I ended up pushing you away instead."

Ichabod sighed, leaning into the Hessian's warm touch. "We both mad mistakes I suppose," he lamented, "but I do love you and I want to be near you, but I do not wish to be trapped inside like that anymore."

The Hessian nodded, kneeling down beside the bed. He gently stroked the top of the baby's soft hair, managing to still hold onto Ichabod's pale cheek. "What can we do mein geliebter?"

"Perhaps you could come back to the city with me?" Ichabod suggested. "I don't think that Masbath would mind too much. Once he gets used to you..."

The Hessian chuckled and shook his head slowly at the young man's words, causing him to pause and raise a questioning eyebrow at the dead man. "I am afraid that will not work," he said. Ichabod gave him a puzzled look, and the Hessian sighed and continued. "There is no place for a dead man in the world of the living. One look at me and people will flea in terror."

"Oh." Ichabod's shoulders slumped slightly and he looked down at the sleeping newborn in his arms sadly.

Viktor frowned slightly at the look on the young mortal's face. "Could you not try to come back to the Tree with me?" he suggested. "I promise that I will not lock you in again."

Ichabod shook his head slowly. "No, it... it won't work," he told him quietly. "There's simply not enough room for three people in there."

"We do not need much room, mein geliebter. You and I can share the bed and the baby can sleep in the crib in the corner."

"That may be fine for now, but not when the baby gets older."

The Hessian raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

"Viktor," he began, a blush creeping on to his face. "Don't make me say it out loud." When the other man did not seem to get the hint Ichabod sighed and his blush deepened. "W-when the baby gets older... and w-we... we are... _intimate_. T-there are no other rooms so..."

"Oh," Viktor said, feeling foolish for not understanding right away. "I see now." They were both quite for a while, considering their options. There seemed to be none left and Viktor feared that this just might be the end of the best thing he ever had.

"I could stay here, in Sleepy Hollow," Ichabod suggested.

The Hessian quirked an eyebrow at him. "I thought that you did not like it here?"

Ichabod shrugged. "It won't be too bad. It is a quite town, safer then the city I suppose. It will be a good place to raise our baby, and I will be near you." He looked up at the dead man, uncertain. "What do you think?"

Viktor smiled, relieved that they would not have to separate. He kissed him lightly on the lips. "That is a good idea," he said. He looked down at their daughter sleeping soundly in Ichabod's arms. "What should we name her?" he asked thoughtfully.

Ichabod thought for a moment and then smiled. "Meriwether," he said. "After my mother."


	14. Chapter 14: Happily Ever After

Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow. The film Sleepy Hollow was made by Tim Burton who adapted it from Washington Irving's short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Chapter 14: Happily Ever After

_Four years later_

Ichabod sat on the bed with his daughter in his lap as he gently ran a comb thought her long, soft black hair. He smiled as the little girl played with the small toy horse that her other father had made for her before she was even born. He loved his daughter. Her pale white skin, long black hair, and startlingly light blue eyes made her the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He gently braided the soft black locks into twin braids, tying off the ends with light blue ribbons that matched her dress.

Ichabod placed a soft kiss on the back of her head and lifted her up and then placed her down on the floor. He turned her around to face him, looking her up and down. He smiled as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"You look very pretty Meriwether," he told her happily, causing the little girl to blush and smile shyly. "Are you ready to go see Vater?"

She nodded happily. "Can I bring my horsy with me Daddy?" she asked, waving the toy in front of him for emphasis.

"Of course you can," he said, patting the top of her head.

Meriwether squealed happily, hoping up and down. Ichabod got up, taking her hand and leading her down the stairs. There, Masbath was packing a picnic basket for the two. Ichabod smiled at the young man. Masbath had grown much more confident as well as taller over the last four years, but his loyalty to Ichabod hadn't changed. Even when Ichabod offered him the chance to go off on his own, he had declined, not wanting to leave the older man's side.

"Are the lunches packed?" Ichabod asked.

Masbath nodded, patting the top of the basket for emphasis. "Aye sir," he said politely. "And the horse you requested is ready for you."

"Thank you Masbath," he said, picking up the basket and heading toward the door.

"Thank you," Meriwether repeated sweetly as she followed her father out the door.

* * *

It was a strange sight to say the very least, a small child actually _happy_ to see the Hessian Horseman, running into his arms with a wide smile instead of cowering in fear at his very presence. Yet this was the very sight before him and Ichabod couldn't help but smile.

The dead man, smiled as he lifted the pale little girl into his strong arms, holding her close to him in a warm embrace.

"Vater!" Meriwether squealed in delight.

The Hessian kissed her pale cheek, murmuring something softly to her, causing the girl to erupt into a fit of giggles. Meriwether then pulled out her toy horse, seemingly from thin air, and waved it in the German man's face.

"Look Vater! I brought Lil' Daredevil," she said happily, referring to the toy. "Where is Big Daredevil?"

Viktor placed her back down on the ground and pointed off into the distance. "He is off grazing in a near by field," he told her.

"Oh," she said and then looked down at her feet sheepishly, digging the tip of her shoe into a patch of dead grass.

Viktor raised a brow at the child's sudden change in mood. He knelt down beside her, wrapping a large arm around her gently. "What is it kleines?" he asked gently.

Nothing," Meriwether said bashfully. "Just... I wanted to know... if... if..."

"If what?" he prompted, placing a gloved hand comfortingly on top of her soft black hair.

"… if I could ride Big Daredevil today."

"_No!_" Ichabod nearly screeched the words, causing both Viktor and Meriwether to turn and stare at him. His face was white with fear, his eyes doubled in size, and he placed a hand over his left breast as if to slow his heart's frantic beating, "No," he repeated, this time in a less panicked tone. "It's far too dangerous Meriwether."

"Why?" the young girl asked, her light blue eyes widened questioningly. "We rode here on horseback Daddy."

Ichabod sighed, going to kneel down beside Meriwether, cupping a pale cheek in his equally white hand. "Yes, but that was a _different_ horse." _And even then I was frightened for you._ Some may call Ichabod over protective, but to him keeping his daughter safe from injury and illness was top priority, and his mortal daughter riding on top of a dead war horse did not sound very safe to him.

"But Daddy, Daredevil _loves_ me!" she argued. The child did have a point. The ghost horse was much gentler with her then others, where as the beast would usually snort and buck about furiously in the presence of a stranger, it would willingly stay calm for Meriwether, even allowing her the honor of stroking his nose and feeding him by hand. Ichabod reasoned that the horse was able to sense a part of its master in the girl, but that still wasn't enough to convince him that it would be safe for her to ride him.

Ichabod shook his head in a slightly apologetic manor. He didn't want to be the bad guy, but he had to put his foot down. "I am sorry Meriwether, but my answer is still no."

Meriwether pouted slightly then turned her pleading blue eyes on Viktor. "Please Vater," she begged. "You know that Daredevil won't hurt me!"

The Hessian looked Ichabod in the eyes for a moment. Seeing the worried look on the mortal's face, he heaved a sigh and turned his gaze back to Meriwether. "When you are older, kleines, I promise."

Meriwether pouted, but managed to nod slightly anyway. "Okay," she said, knowing that she was beat. "Can I go play with Daredevil?"

Ichabod raised an eyebrow at her suspiciously. "'Little' or 'Big'?"

"Lil," she said, disappointed that Ichabod had caught her trying to sneak away.

He nodded, kissing her forehead. She wandered off into a clearing still in plain sight. When she was far enough away the Hessian wrapped his large arm around Ichabod's waist, pulling the thin young man into his lap. Ichabod was about to gasp, but was cut off when the Hessian captured his lips in a fierce kiss. He moaned parting his lips just enough to give Viktor the chance to slip his tongue in. Ichabod felt the other man's hot wet muscle enter his mouth, caressing his insides. He whimpered with pleasure as the Hessian's sharp teeth grazed against his lips lightly. He moaned in need as Viktor broke the kiss. He panted slightly, resting his head on the lager man's broad shoulder.

"I love you," he moaned breathlessly.

The Hessian placed a soft kiss on the top of his head. "I love you, too," he murmured back. They sat in silence watching Meriwether playing happily in the field, stopping every now and again to pick a flower or two. Viktor smiled at the sight, tightening his arms around the thin young man's waist. "What would you say to having another child, mein geliebter?"

Ichabod smiled mischievously, snuggling closer to him. "What would you say if I told you I was already pregnant?"

_**The**_

_**End**_

According to AltaVista:

Vater - German for "father"

Kleines - German for "little one"

**AN:** Yes, sadly this is the last chapter. (Also, if you read my other two mpreg stories you noticed that they both had a similar ending. I know that by now it's a little played out but I just think that it'scute.)I don't think there will be a sequel either, since I don't have any ideas of what to write. :P

Thank you to everyone that read my story, and even bigger thanks to those of you that left a review. I really appreciate the fact that I didn't get one single flame this entire time. I guess people have come to except mpregs more and more.


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